


You Think This Troubles Me?

by snarkasaurus



Series: Fictober 2018 [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: Fictober 2018, Day 10. Stiles cooks, Derek is annoyed for some reason... could be read as pre-relationship if you were so inclined.





	You Think This Troubles Me?

One of these days, Derek was going to punch Stiles in the face. In the actual face. Not just in the hand to prove he could punch through a wall, not in the shoulder in response to some stupid joke, but actually in the face because the guy was being an absolute and complete asshole and Derek was going to have absolutely enough of the bullshit involved. 

There was something really fucking annoying about the kid. Well. Okay, first thing he should probably do in order to _not want to punch Stiles in the face_ was acknowledge that he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was in his 20s, now. 23? 24? Something like that. Point was, it had been a while since they’d met and the urge to punch Stiles had never really subsided, but he should probably learn how to deal with it. It was a thing he should probably figure out how to control. 

Probably. 

The thing was, Derek had been suppressing the urge for years now. Literally years. And he’d never actually punched Stiles in the face. He’d come close once or twice, especially near the beginning when the kid was being an annoying little shit that was absolutely the last person in the world Derek wanted to deal with right then. But other than that, it was the kind of thing that had just become kind of a song and dance between the two of them. 

Stiles would say something snarky or ridiculous. Derek would make some grumbling response. Stiles would make another snarky comment about it. Derek would glare. Stiles would say something particularly sarcastic. Derek would want to punch him in the face. It was the way the world worked. 

But right now, with Stiles staring at him, eyes narrowed, forehead wrinkled with the frown spread across Stiles entire face, seriously, how did the kid manage to get even his earlobes involved in a frown, it was insane, he really wanted to just haul off and punch Stiles. 

But this time, he didn’t know why. 

“Why are you asking me this? Why are you demanding to know why I made enough pasta for an army? I always make pasta for an army?” Stiles asked. 

“We don’t have an army,” Derek muttered, not entirely sure why he felt so annoyed. 

“You think this troubles me?” Stiles asked, surprised. “Pasta makes amazing leftovers, and if I don’t eat it, someone will. At some point, someone will show up and I will need to feed them, and if I have made enough pasta to feed an army, then I will not have to make something specifically for them.” 

“So basically, what you’re telling me is that you regularly expect to be feeding random people who show up and demand food around the time when you’re already cooking?” Derek asked. 

Stiles gave him a pointed look. 

It took Derek a minute to figure out why Stiles was looking at him like that, but once he did, he flushed. He was the one that was standing here at dinner time. He hadn’t come to get food, granted, but he was here nonetheless. And he was upset because Stiles had made a massive pot of spaghetti. Annoyed enough to want to punch him. Or...With a weird lurching in his chest that Derek didn’t want to think about too hard, Derek realized that he didn’t want to punch Stiles. Well. Not right now. 

“Would you like some spaghetti?” Stiles asked. His voice was was quiet and almost...vulnerable? Was that what Derek was hearing, vulnerability? That was something that he hadn’t ever considered a part of the general Stiles Stilinski makeup, but the more he thought about it, the more he was willing to believe that that’s exactly what he was hearing. 

“I, uh. I didn’t actually come here for food,” Derek said, shifting a little. He wanted to, though. He wanted to sit down and stay and be here for food. He wanted to be here because Stiles wanted him to be here, and wow, that was another thought that sent a jolt through him. Apparently tonight was the night for revelations. 

Stiles quirked his lips in what might have been a smile if Derek couldn’t smell what seemed to be nervousness coming off of him. “You think this troubles me, Sourwolf?” He grabbed a second plate out of the cabinet and crossed the small kitchen to put it on the table by the one that was already there. “Sit down, Derek.” 

Derek sat.


End file.
